Judgments collected under the awning, hummed against the shell of her ear.
Coley is lucky because he gets to wear muddy Wellington boots all year long and a tatty woollen hat and a ragged sweater and stand in his yard and look at the sheds and the shit and the wheelbarrow
Jealousy is a powerful emotion, and it stems from envying the luck with which someone else has been blessed.
"God, she's sooooo lucky!"
I, too, believe that luck happens when preparation meets opportunity, but I'd add a touch of tenacity to the equation. After my novel, HUSBANDS MAY COME AND GO BUT FRIENDS ARE FOREVER, was released
I'm a big believer that we create our own luck. To the right of my desk, a blue fabric message board hangs on the wall.
In my first novel, The Devil's Redhead, one of my characters makes that pronouncement, equating life with luck, and being lucky with terror.
The topic of today's blog was selected by Redroom. It is about luck. There is an old saying that goes something like this [unknown] "...I rather be lucky than smart...".
Two years after a death, the "my deepest sympathies" are long over and done with; one is naturally expected to have gotten back to, or on with, normal life (though 'normal', as you knew i
"Doesn't she know not to send me out to wait for the train to come at midnight?!" the man sitting next to me said. "I'm an alcoholic, for chrissakes!"
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